


A Golden Mask

by lotus0kid



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode AU: s01e12 Skin Deep, F/M, Hero Rumplestiltskin Mr Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-26 05:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10780518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotus0kid/pseuds/lotus0kid
Summary: “Sir Stilzchen” and the Dark One are the same person. Rum got bored fifty years ago and started disguising himself as a wandering knight.  Over time the fame of his alternate persona has spread, without ever being tied to the real man.  He even came to Belle’s rescue once, not long before the ogre invasion.





	1. Chapter 1

Belle leans her head against the frame of the carriage door, but a lurch bumps it against her and she recoils with a wince.  “Ouch,” she grumbles, rubbing at the sore spot.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Belle smiles and immediately tucks herself against her mother’s side, head comfortably pillowed on Colette’s shoulder.

“It’s been a long trip, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Belle replies.

“But a good one, yes?”

Belle considers for a moment.  “It’s been interesting.”

She’d never visited Paraza before.  The Marshlands capital was grander than anything she’d ever encountered, outside of her books.  King Xavier’s palace was the grandest of all.  Perhaps she should’ve been more appreciative.  Instead, she endured her tedious presentation before the court with a straight back and a smile only to quicken her escape into the palace’s library and museum and art collection.  Colette, knowing she should be grateful for what participation she got, allowed Belle to bury herself in books and antiquities until it was time to board their carriage for the long ride through the Blue Mountains back to Collioure.

Belle has almost slipped into a doze when a strange animal cry from overhead wakes her.  “What was that?”

Seconds later, she and Colette instinctively duck at the sound of something large swooping down above the carriage.  The coachman cries out and the horses whinny in alarm and jolt forward.

“Gods, what on- Belle, no!”

She’s already cracked open the door and peers upward with one eye.  She rears back as a silhouetted shape zooms by not five feet over her head.  She slams the door shut and all but tumbles into Colette’s arms.

“What is it?” her mother asks, eyes going wide.

Belle tries to reconstruct the shape in her memory.  She knows it has massive wings, but did it also have a long, thin tail?  And four legs ending in wide paws?  “I... I’m not sure.  It might be-”

There’s another animal cry, and this time Belle doesn’t miss the unique combination of an eagle’s piercing shriek and a lion’s throaty roar.

Colette goes pale.  “A griffin.”

They’re picking up speed.  Guards on horseback are shouting to each other, encircling the carriage in a protective formation.  But then, Belle and Colette almost fall off their seat when a hard thump on the roof sends the whole carriage wobbling.  They stare in horror as sixteen black claws dig in above.  The horses let out panicked neighs and launch into a wild gallop.  The shouts of the guards fade away behind them and all Belle and Colette can do is clutch at each other and pray the carriage doesn’t overturn as they careen down the road.

At some point the claws disengage and the carriage lurches again as the griffin launches itself back into the air.  Belle disentangles herself from Colette and peeks out of the door.

“What are you doing?!” Colette shrieks.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Belle says, “Griffins don’t attack carriages.  The largest prey they hunt are deer.  Something’s wrong.”

Their pursuer circles high overhead and Belle forces herself not to cower but keep watching through the narrow gap.  The griffin swoops and flares its wings, its lion half hanging down so it can slash its claws and snap its beak at the side of the carriage.  A hand clamps on Belle’s shoulder and yanks her backwards, which pulls the door shut again.

“Keep away from there, Belle!” Colette commands.

“I... I think I saw...”  Again she has to mentally reconstruct an image she only glimpsed.  She saw its eyes over the brutal beak.  They were glowing a furious red.

The griffin dives again and the horses put on even more speed.  Colette’s arms lock around Belle as they wait for the inevitable crash.

Then they hear a new voice and thundering hooves coming up alongside them.  “Hyah!  Hyah!  Hyah!” a man shouts, presumably to a horse.

The griffin’s cry swings past overhead as the carriage lurches with the weight of someone jumping on the coachman’s seat.  They see flashes of white light at the windows.  The griffin’s next cry is pained.  The horses are slowing.

They hear the griffin swoop once more and there’s another, bigger flash of light.  One last cry, plaintive and weak, and the carriage skids to a stop following a hard thud on the road ahead.  Colette is trembling and gasping, clutching Belle so hard she can barely breathe.

“I- I have to see what’s going on,” she murmurs.

“No!  No...”

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Ebbing adrenaline alone is probably what allows Belle to slip out of Colette’s grasp and dart through the door.  She stumbles down the step and onto the dusty road, where she sees a man encased in gleaming golden armor facing away from her.  Ahead of him lies the griffin, still but for labored breaths.  The man walks toward it, his hand coming to the grip of a sword on his waist.

“No, don’t!” Belle shouts unthinkingly, hurrying forward.

The man stops and half-turns.  He lifts his helmet’s visor to peer at her curiously.

“Don’t hurt it, please.  I- I think it’s enchanted.”

He gives her a crooked grin and says, “Of course it is, my lady.”  He strides forward and steps over the fallen griffin’s splayed wings to kneel beside it.  He gently takes its huge head in one hand, and uses the other to pry open one of its eyelids, giving Belle another look at the burning red glow.  “See that?  Some fool of an amateur wizard wanted to increase its ferocity.  And he did, all the way to berserk rage.  I’ve been tracking it all day, trying to keep it from killing anyone.”

Both of his hands hold the griffin’s head, and white light emanates from them.  A strange red-black substance seeps out of its eyes and slithers into the air where it forms into a spitting, churning ball.  The man waves a hand over it and it vanishes.

“There, all better.”  He lays the griffin’s head down on its great paws.  “Rest now, that’s a good lad.”

Belle’s about to ask who this hero is when she hears the guards cantering up the road, the coachman sharing a saddle with one of them.  She turns to call, “We’re all right!  The griffin’s- um...  It won’t hurt anyone!”

“Very good, my lady,” says the leader before his gaze jumps to the man, “And who is...?  Gods above.”

Belle looks from him to the man and back.  “What?”

“Sir Stilzchen...” he breathes while hastily dismounting, nearly getting his foot caught in the stirrup as he goes.

The man, Sir Stilzchen, has stepped away from the griffin.  He raises a hand and shrugs as far as his armor allows.  “Guilty as charged,” he says with another winning grin, “What is your name?”

“Emile, sir, my name is Emile,” the guard replies, grabbing Sir Stilzchen’s hand and pumping it fervently.

“Right, well, you might need some faster horses, Emile.”

“Yes, of course, you’re totally right, I completely agree.”

Belle lifts an eyebrow at this obsequious display, until the two other guards and the coachman walk past her to also gather around Sir Stilzchen and reverently introduce themselves.  A new noise from behind her has Belle turning to see Colette emerging from the carriage.  She hurries over to help her mother, who still looks pale and dazed even as she squints at their savior.  “Golden armor,” she murmurs, “Can it be...?”

“He says his name is Sir Stilzchen,” Belle says, “Do you know him?”

“I know _of_ him.  I read you tales of him, some time ago.”

“I don’t recall.”

Colette manages an ironic smirk.  “Well, I wouldn’t either if I devoured books as you do, my dear.”

Their conversation is interrupted when Sir Stilzchen and his impromptu entourage approach them.  “My ladies, I trust you are unharmed?”

Colette dips into a curtsey Belle barely remembers to mimic.  “We are, sir, thanks to you.  I am Lady Colette of Collioure, and this is my daughter Belle.  Are you indeed Sir Stilzchen, the golden knight, loyal to no king but a hero to all?”

Again he shrugs and grins.  “So the poets tell me.”

“I’ve heard tales of your exploits since... since I was a child.”  Colette’s voice has turned pensive, and she gives Sir Stilzchen a probing squint.

He coughs a bit and says, “Yes, well, I suppose you ought to be on your way.  Collioure is a long ride from here, is it not?”

“Indeed.  You have our humblest thanks for your service, Sir Stilzchen.”

“Can’t he join us?” the question pops out of Belle almost before she’s thought it.  Her cheeks flush at the surprised glances of Colette and Sir Stilzchen.  “He saved our lives,” she hurries to explain, “I’m certain Father would think that worthy of a feast, if not more.”

“That’s very kind, Lady Belle,” Sir Stilzchen says, “But I’m afraid I have a prior commitment.  I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Her heart sinks.  She was hoping to learn more about the enchantment that infected the griffin, as well as hear as many stories as possible from his travels throughout the realms.  Apparently her curiosity will go unsatisfied.  “Yes, of course, Sir Stilzchen.  Thank you for your service.  Let’s go, Mother.”

After another round of handshakes with the guards, they mount their horses and the coachman guides the carriage down the road.  Belle looks through the window, craning to keep the golden figure of Sir Stilzchen in view until he’s gone.

“Oh dear,” Colette sighs, “You won’t look at a single suitor now.”

“Mother!” Belle cries in embarrassment, heat rushing to her cheeks once more.  Colette is being silly.  Belle’s certainly not thinking of Sir Stilzchen in that way.  Not remotely.

Meanwhile, the man who appears to be Sir Stilzchen watches the carriage trundle away with its company of guards.  Once the whole party is out of view, he continues to wait, unmoving until the sound of hoof beats and wooden wheels fades away.  Then, golden armor melts into black leather.  Brown eyes turn reptilian.  Smooth, tanned skin gains a layer of mottled scales with a sparking sheen.

The Dark One stalks back to the griffin and crouches down before extracting a clear crystal from a pocket of his dragon-hide coat.  He waves his hand, and the spitting, churning ball of magic reappears exactly where he left it.  “Right then, in you go,” he croons in a warped and creaky voice.  The magic streams into the crystal, turning it red-black and hot to the touch.

Rumpelstiltskin tucks the crystal away, then contemplates the griffin.  He reaches out and gives one of its fluffy ears a sharp flick.  Its yellow eyes pop open and it cringes and twists onto its feet to crouch and leap into the air, flying away as fast as its wings can take it.

“You’re welcome,” Rumpelstiltskin mutters, voice thick with sarcasm.  He straightens and peers along the road where he last saw the carriage.  The girl and her mother- they were really something.  Too smart, for one.  He doesn’t need smart people ruining his fun, not after so long.

It’s an utter farce, this little hobby of his.  He ought to give it up, especially as the time of his great and terrible working nears.  But somehow it’s gotten harder instead of easier to say goodbye to Sir Stilzchen.  Every year it’s become more enjoyable as the knight’s and the monster’s reputations have grown in opposite directions.  Every smile he earns, every word of praise and gratitude given is darkly delicious as he imagines the horror of his admirers if they learned who was behind the handsome mask.  No bright young lady would invite him to feast with her people then.  Not that he’d wish to go if she did.  Not remotely.

Eyes still trained on where the road curves, Rumpelstiltskin straightens his coat, and disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

The whole castle feels different with another person living in it.  Rumpelstiltskin isn’t sure if he likes that or not.  He might like it better if the crying stopped.  He’s disappointed in Lady Belle.  She seemed so brave on the road with the griffin years ago, and braver still in her father’s great hall offering herself as sacrifice to the beast.  Now it’s all sobs when she’s alone and glowers when their paths happen to cross.  It’s possible that she is unhappy with her dungeon quarters.  But it’s perfectly comfortable down there- totally dry and not very cold.  It turns out she’s just another pampered noble brat, who can’t handle even the slightest discomfort.  Unfortunate, but the magic gets what the magic demands.

And yet, as he hunches over his spinning and focuses with all his might, his thoughts scatter on the distant sound of another hoarse sob.  He shoots to his feet and storms off in the direction of the dungeon.

Some time later, Rumpelstiltskin returns to his wheel, plopping down on the seat, thoughts more chaotic than ever.  He was wrong.  Belle is braver than he imagined.  She is truly noble, in spirit as well as birth.  She stopped him from making a tragic mistake, and that’s his _specialty!_

He scowls as he plucks up straw to feed into the wheel.  No, he can’t be wrong.  No one is all conviction and mercy and light.  He can find her weakness.  Or, not exactly him.  It will be the work of moments for Sir Stilzchen.

He waits a while, to avoid suspicion.  Claims a deal needs to be made that will take him hundreds of miles away for several days.  And so he goes, and actually does manage to do some of his dark business, all the while imagining the darker torment he will inflict at home.  When he can bear the anticipation no more, he whisks himself back to the Dark Castle.

He stands in the snow beneath the tower that contains Belle’s living quarters and library.  Or, _his_ library, that is.  He lifts his arms and raises a column of warm air to reach the library’s bay window.  With another gesture, the frozen ground cracks and churns as a massive rose bush bursts forth and climbs the side of the tower.  Rumpelstiltskin draws on his hero’s mask, then grabs a vine and steps into the bush, allowing it to carry him up.  There’s already a figure standing at the fogged-up window by the time he arrives.  He strikes a pose, visor up so he can direct a brilliant grin at Belle as she pushes open the pane.

He’s immediately gratified by her gasp and widened eyes.  “Sir Stilzchen!  W-what are you doing here?”

He gives her an incredulous blink.  “I heard there was a lady being held prisoner by an evil sorcerer.  How could I resist?”

He waits for her to fall into his arms, weeping tears of gratitude.  Instead, she frowns and shakes her head.  “No, I’m- I’m not a prisoner.”

He squints, “Are you not confined to this castle, subject to the whims of a cruel and dark beast?”

“I’ve agreed to act as the castle’s caretaker.  In exchange, Rumpelstiltskin saved my village from the ogre invasion.  It was a fair trade.  The safety of my friends and family, for my servitude.”

Sorrow fills her face as she speaks, but it doesn’t touch the resolve in her voice.  Rumpelstiltskin is utterly flummoxed.

Before he can think of a new strategy, he’s lost in the endless blue of Belle’s eyes as she softly asks, “Why didn’t you come?  I learned more about you, after the griffin.  You’ve fought ogre hordes many times.”

“Uh, yes, well...” Rumpelstiltskin replies articulately.  When the attacks began in the Marshlands, Stilzchen was in a dormant period.  Rumpelstiltskin maintains that schedule diligently, to keep up the mystique of the wandering knight and to protect his true identity.  Even if Stilzchen was available, something in his seer’s sight warned him off interfering, despite his personal hatred of ogres.

“My mother died,” Belle murmurs with the slightest hint of accusation in her voice.  But then her face creases with an inward grimace.  “No, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault.  You don’t owe us.”

Indeed he doesn’t.  But his heart still squeezes painfully and he hears himself mumble, “I wish I’d been there.” At a tiny glint of light in Belle’s eyes, more words fall from his mouth, each more foolish than the last.  “However, I was trapped.  Trapped in another world.  A strange world.  Very strange.  It was a land without magic.”

Her eyebrows jump and beautiful curiosity replaces grief.  “Really?  No magic, I can hardly imagine.  What was it like?”

He wishes he knew.  Instead he babbles out some nonsense about horseless carriages and libraries made of light that could fit in her hand.  “I... I could hardly tell up from down in that place, to be honest.”

“Were you all alone?” she asks, radiating sympathy.

“Uh, no.  There was... there was a boy.  He came from our world as well.  Fell through a portal.”  What is he doing?  What enchantment has she put on him to draw out his greatest secret, if in a sideways fashion?  Did he inadvertently bring a witch into his home?

“Gods, it must have been even more frightening for him.  At least you could defend yourself.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s guts churn with fresh guilt from an old wound.  “Yes.  He said he was very scared at first.  But he still helped me, with no thought of a reward.  He was a good lad.”

“You must have become quite close.  It’s obvious you miss him terribly.”

At last Rumpelstiltskin manages to contain himself and remember his mission.  He sets his mask to firm determination and says, “Indeed.  And he would never wish to see a fair lady enslaved.  Come with me now.  Leave this vile place and its corrupted master.”

The sympathy in Belle’s face changes to something he can’t quite read.  “I can’t leave.  I gave my word, Sir Stilzchen.  I’m sure you understand that.”

“You gave your word to a monster.  He has no honor, why does he deserve yours?”

For some reason, she gives him a small smile.  “You don’t know him.  He’s not a monster.  He isn’t any of the things people call him.  Anyway, it’s his magic that saved my village, so it’s to him that I owe my debt.  I can’t risk the consequences of breaking my word.  I’ll say good night now.  You can...  Wait, how are you even here?  I know this castle is heavily warded.”

Damn, he didn’t expect her to ask that.  Rumpelstiltskin tries to toss his head proudly, though the helmet and collar of the armor make it feel more like a spasm.  “All magic has a weak spot, dear- ah, dear lady.  The old crocodile isn’t as powerful as he thinks he is.”

Belle doesn’t look particularly convinced, but still says, “Right, well, be careful, Sir Stilzchen.  He said he was traveling, but he might have returned, and I doubt he’d appreciate finding you out on the lawn.”

“Stealth isn’t my forte, but anything for you, my lady.”  Caught in his gallant persona, Rumpelstiltskin scoops up Belle’s hand and drops a kiss on the back of it.  “Until we meet again.”

He dares to believe some pink rushes to her cheeks as she ducks her head and whispers, “Goodbye.”

Rumpelstiltskin begins climbing down the rose bush.  Above, the window swings shut.  He disappears, but leaves behind an audible illusion of Sir Stilzchen’s descending form.  He reappears in the hall outside the library, making sure to stomp all the way to Belle’s door.

“What’s this?” he barks at the smooth wood, “I return from my journey to find you burning all my candles?  You’d best get to bed, dearie, you’ll be working yourself to the bone tomorrow.”

Far from a peep of guilty terror and a flurry of footsteps racing to hide under her covers, Rumpelstiltskin hears Belle stand from the window seat and stroll to the door.  She opens it, and there isn’t the tiniest clue in her face that she just refused a means of escape.  “Hello to you too,” she quips, “Did you have a pleasant trip?”

“Passing fair,” he growls, wondering why he isn’t spitting out another threat.

“That’s nice.  I’ll say good night then.”

She treats him no different than the dashing hero!  What kind of madwoman is he living with?  And he proves himself just as mad by mumbling, “Good night.”

Belle nods and shuts the door.  Rumpelstiltskin stalks down the hall, completely at a loss for how to accomplish his mission now.  Unable to remember exactly why he wants to.


	3. Chapter 3

All is well in the Dark Castle.  Rumpelstiltskin has the gauntlet, Maleficent and her cohorts have been sent back to the hole they crawled out of, the crisis has been averted.  None of that changes the fact that no crisis should’ve occurred.  They never should’ve been able to manipulate him as they did, by threatening Belle.  He shouldn’t care if she lives or dies.  He cannot allow himself to care.  It’s too dangerous, for them both.  He must make another attempt to accomplish Sir Stilzchen’s mission.

He knows he should wait.  She’ll be suspicious if the knight turns up so soon after all the excitement.  She’ll expect the castle’s security to be stronger than ever.  But he has to.  He has to save her.  And himself.

It’s late.  She’s likely sound asleep after her trying day.  But he still goes to the base of her tower, puts on the mask of Sir Stilzchen, and climbs the rose bush to her window.  Peering inside, he finds that Belle isn’t asleep, but instead stands wrapped in a thick blanket, a finger running along the books the occupy one of the many shelves.

He taps at the glass, and has an awful moment of feeling like a lost puppy before Belle turns at the sound.  Her eyebrows jump and she pads to the window to gingerly lower herself onto the seat.  She unlatches the frame and pushes it open, immediately saying in a low, soft voice, “Sir Stilzchen, you can’t be here right now.”

He forces a smile.  “I was in the area, and wanted to check on you.  See if you’d reconsidered my offer.”

“I’ve not.  Nothing’s changed.”

A sting of outrage hits Rumpelstiltskin at that.  How can she say nothing has changed when he feels so...?  He stifles the half-formed thought, and redoubles his efforts, “Indeed, you’re still trapped in the clutches of a dangerous villain.”

She tilts her head slightly.  “Rumpelstiltskin saved my life today, at great cost to him.  Does that sound like a villain to you?”

No, which is the problem.  He holds up a finger, “Ah, but why was your life in danger?  Let me take you away.  Find you somewhere his darkness will never threaten you again.”

“I am not leaving,” she affirms, “I told you before.  This is the price of his magic that I agreed to pay.”

Ah, so it’s all down to the magic.  The safety of her village.  That’s what matters to her.  Of course.  He forgot that she is a hero, while he only plays at being one.  “You lost your home to save it, I understand, but couldn’t you go to a different place, and live in peace there?”

“I didn’t agree to leave my home.  I agreed to be the caretaker of Rumpelstiltskin’s estate.  Words are important when magic is involved.  I’ve learned that much.”

Yes, she’s listened to him gloat often enough about a cunning phrase that turned a deal most viciously in his favor.  Sometimes, he’s gotten the feeling she enjoys his stories.  Though maybe she’s just been searching for a loophole in her own deal.  He’s honestly unsure how the magic would react to Belle abandoning the Dark Castle.  He’d protect her from the consequences, of course, but... Gods, why does he _care?_   He doesn’t know, he can only press on.  “I’m here now.  I’ll protect Collioure, if necessary.  I swear it.”

Would he?  Could he find himself living as Sir Stilzchen, battling ogres instead of finding Bae just to keep Belle happy?  Would it even work, or would the magic strike him down in revenge for being cheated?  This is becoming ludicrous.

Belle sighs, and places her hands on top of his gauntlet where it grips the window sill.  His stomach does a strange flip and his mind throws up the memory of how she took his hand in the library and made him feel as if he wasn’t despicable, just for a moment.  However, the blanket rides up her arms as she reaches out to him, revealing thick bands of purple bruises that make his stomach churn instead.  He’ll slice off Ursula’s slimy limbs, the next time he sees her.  “Thank you, for risking your own safety to visit me,” she murmurs, “But I won’t be coming with you.  There’s... there’s a mystery here that I want to uncover.  And I won’t give up until I do.”

Rumpelstiltskin has no idea what that’s supposed to mean.  His mind flies through all the secrets of the Dark Castle, wondering what has so fascinated Belle.  Is it a book?  That’s a safe bet.  Still, he’s compelled to warn her,  “Any mysteries in the Dark Castle will have bad ends.”

Belle simply lifts an eyebrow.  “Spoken like a man who’s heard all the stories and never thought to look beneath the surface.  I thought you were better than that, Sir Stilzchen.”

What does she _want_ from him?  He’s a valiant knight, famed for his chivalry and prowess- what does he need to know about the dank lair of a twisted imp?  Rumpelstiltskin squeezes his eyes shut and gives his head a shake.  This woman could even drive Stilzchen mad.

“Are you all right?” he hears her ask, “You still haven’t told me how you’re getting past the wards.”

“Not easily,” he mutters, allowing his confused frustration filter through the mask as weariness, “I hope this mystery is worth your time, my lady.  Or your life, if it comes to it.”

“We shall see.  Good night.  And be careful.”

She moves back and shuts the window, and Rumpelstiltskin climbs halfway down the tower before rolling his eyes at himself and poofing into his laboratory.  He spends far too many of the ensuing hours failing to figure out the mystery that keeps Belle from accepting a personal rescue from the golden knight of legend.


	4. Chapter 4

Rumpelstiltskin has spun all day, but hasn’t managed to forget how it felt to hold Belle in his arms.  She was even warmer than the sunshine spilling through the window.  More beautiful too.  He fled as quickly as he could, but the damage was done.  Belle has become far too great a distraction to tolerate any longer.

Perhaps it’s fear that’s driving him to fixate on her.  Fear of failure.  Fear of success.  Time is marching ever closer to the day his curse will be cast.  He needs all his focus if the final pieces are going to fall into place.  He cannot afford a single misstep, which seems to be all he makes around Belle.  It’s been... interesting, having her here.  But she has to go.

That night, he climbs up the tower one last time with Stilzchen’s armor clanking around his limbs.  He spots Belle reading on her chaise lounge when he makes it to the window.  At his gentle tap, she sets her book aside and draws on a robe before coming to the seat and pushing the pane open.  “You spend quite a lot of time in these frigid, craggy mountains, Sir Stilzchen,” she quips with a smile that fades too quickly, “I’ve not changed my mind.”

“My lady, please, I didn’t want to upset you.  But I’m afraid there’s been a landslide near Collioure.  Your people are in great need for their lady to guide them.”

The pale of horror he expects doesn’t wash over her face.  Instead, she just looks disappointed.  “That’s a terrible thing to say, no matter how noble your intentions.  And you’re a dreadful liar.”

If she thinks that’s true of Sir Stilzchen, what does that make Rumpelstiltskin?  Regardless, shame has him cringing under her stern gaze.  “I-I’m sorry.  It’s just...  I can’t stand the thought of you rotting away forever in this terrible place.”

She shrugs a shoulder and says, “It’s not what I wanted out of life either, but I will not break my word.”

“What did you want?”  He’s not sure where the question comes from, but he’s glad enough when disappointment fades into wistfulness.

“To see the world.  To be more than someone’s little wife.  To be a hero, like you.  I got to do that, at least, even if it meant spending my life here.  You’ve traveled far and wide, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me about it?  Come, come inside.  I’ve been awfully rude, haven’t I?  Making you stand on thorny roses outside my window.”

“I, ah... But what about... the Dark One?”

She raises an eyebrow.  “Now you’re worried about him?  After bypassing his wards and crossing the gardens and climbing the tower to steal me away?  Believe it or not, Rumpelstiltskin respects my privacy.  He’ll knock before he enters, and you can be gone in a flash, yes?”

He has no argument against her.  It still feels like an unspeakable crime to clamber up onto the sill and attempt to squeeze through the window.  After a terrifically awkward minute, he flicks a hand to replace the armor with soft leather and cotton.  It lets him slip through, but also leaves him feeling rather exposed, despite the fact that he’s standing in his own bloody castle.  The existence of Sir Stilzchen has never been more farcical than in this moment.

“Please, sit,” Belle says, waving to a chair by the hearth.

He does as told, while she perches on the end of her chaise lounge.  In the silence, he fidgets, thumb and first finger rubbing together until he remembers his mask and clenches his hand into a fist.  Rumpelstiltskin may be as low-born as it gets, but even he knows it’s not proper for an unmarried woman to invite a man into her chambers, let alone after dark.  However, Belle doesn’t seem the least bit concerned.  But then, why should she?  Stilzchen is honorable.  Everyone knows that.

They talk.  Rumpelstiltskin recounts his adventures as the golden knight, and Belle listens raptly when she’s not asking questions.  It’s... cruelly pleasant.  The joke has always been that darkness lurks just beneath Sir Stilzchen’s easy smiles and thrilling gallantry.  Rumpelstiltskin has never allowed himself to acknowledge how he enjoys it for its own sake.  That it’s nice not to be despised on sight.  That being Stilzchen is his escape from being _him_.  And now it’s ruined, thanks to Belle.  While the conversation rolls on, Rumpelstiltskin burns with resentment.  But he knew this would happen when he first met her, didn’t he?  She’s too damn smart.

At the end of another exciting tale, Rumpelstiltskin sits forward, elbows braced on his knees as he fixes an earnest gaze on Belle.  “Come with me.  We can leave, now.  I can show you everywhere I just told you about.  The world is waiting.”

Her face is pale, eyes a bit wide, breath slightly quick.  She sits forward as well, and her small hand rises to rest on his cheek.  His own breath stops, frozen along with the rest of him as she continues to move forward until her lips meet his.  The kiss lasts a few seconds.  There’s no joy in it.  Or even lust.  Just goodbye.  Belle leans back with clear eyes and steady breath.  “I forgive you for not rescuing me.  Now go help someone who needs it.  Please, Sir Stilzchen.  The world needs heroes like you.”

Rumpelstiltskin can’t imagine wearing this mask ever again.  With a kiss, Belle has killed the hero, and left only the beast.  “Goodbye, Belle,” he whispers, standing and striding to the window, fleeing without a backwards look.


	5. Chapter 5

Rumpelstiltskin is still in a daze the next morning, unable to understand how his mission went wrong every step of the way.  Belle was supposed to leap at the first chance to escape from the Dark One’s clutches.  She was supposed to run screaming after being kidnapped and nearly murdered by his enemies.  She was supposed to fly off to see the world, as she always wished.  Why is she still here?  Is she really just that noble, just that good?

He’s tired.  Tired like he hasn’t been since he was an ordinary man.  And he can’t be.  Not now.  He can’t afford it.  And yet here he is, slumped against the long table in his great hall, staring at nothing when Belle breezes in and lifts herself up to sit beside him.

After a silent moment that feels like quicksand, she says, “Can I ask you something?”

Rumpelstiltskin only grunts.

Belle carries on, of course.  “I’ve been looking around a bit, and upstairs there’s, uh- some clothing.  Small, as if for a child.  Was it yours, or- or was there a son?”

The old storm of grief and guilt closes in on him without mercy, and he barely hears himself mutter, “There was.  There was a son.  I lost him.  I let him go, and he fell.  Fell through a portal.”

Belle twists to face him.  “A portal?  Did he go to another land?  Was it a land without magic, do you know?”

Panic seizes him as he turns to see Belle’s face alight with excitement.  Oh gods, what has he done?  “I... I don’t, uh...”

She grabs his shoulder, almost shaking it as she says, “If it was a land without magic, I know someone who’s been there.  He might’ve met your son!”

“Belle, please...” he murmurs, but she doesn’t stop.

“We could find him, and ask how he got there and back-”

“Belle, it’s- he’s not-”

“I know he would tell us.  He would help get your son back.  His name is-”

“ _Stilzchen lied!_ ” he shouts, shoving away from the table and out of Belle’s grip.  He whips around to face her, breathing hard with clenched fists.

She should be cowering.  Instead, her hand rises to his cheek, thumb grazing its bony curve, fingertips moving down to trace his jaw.  “Gods,” she breathes with a furrowed brow, hand retreating, “You are him.  You weren’t... you weren’t just impersonating him.  You _are_ Stilzchen.”

He rears back, straightening with a fierce glower, silently daring her to judge him, to berate him, to mock him.

She certainly won’t praise him, he can tell that much.  “You tried to trick me.  Make me break my word.  Why?”

“Why not?” he sneers, “It’s as good a pastime as any, torturing you with hope.  Dangling freedom in front of your face.  But never fear, you acquitted yourself brilliantly.  Full marks for bravery and honor.”

He dips into an exaggerated bow and waits for her to storm off, but by the time he’s upright, she’s climbed off the table and come to stand one step away.  She radiates anger, and something else he can’t quite decipher.  “Right.  And what would you have done if I’d gone?  Hunt me down and kill me?”

He flinches automatically at the thought, and somehow this makes a corner of Belle’s mouth curl up, just for a second.

“I was never going to leave you,” she declares, eyes burning with conviction, “I will never leave you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

He can feel himself breaking, just that easily.  One more question will do it.  “Why?”

She takes a half-step closer and his heart thuds heavily against his ribs.  “Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“I... I don’t understand.”  It’s hard to concentrate on anything but how his hands itch to touch her.

“It’s simple really.  I don’t want a knight in golden armor.  I want a mystery to uncover.”

He gives a slow blink.  She can’t possibly mean what it sounds like she’s saying.  But she’s moving closer still and he’s too wracked with hope and fear to do anything except meet her in the middle for a kiss that sends a wave of warmth through his whole body, flooding the darkness with light.  He barely manages to cling to it by rocking back from Belle, gasping as he examines his hands.  The nails are still hard and black, the skin still mottled with scales.  He grabs a moment of relief before the enormity of it all crashes in.

“Rumpel, what was that?  You changed, for just a second.  It looked like...”  Both of her palms rise to hold his cheeks.  A wondering smile spreads across her face.  “You’re no more a creature of darkness than you are Sir Stilzchen.  There’s someone else hidden under there.  Will I get to meet him someday?”

“Oh, Belle,” he sighs while wrapping his fingers around her wrists to keep her hands on him, “I can tell you about him.  Do you want to hear my story?”

“More than anything.”

He leads Belle back to her library, where he can finally tell her the truth.  He’s not supposed to love her.  She’s not supposed to stay.  It seems neither of them can do what they ought to.  Unless, there’s something else they’re meant to be doing.  Rumpelstiltskin can’t guess what, not yet.  But this feels like a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done! Thanks for reading!


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